


with our backs to the wall

by wakeupyoursaints (untiltheliebecomesyourlife)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Grand Theft Auto AU, Implied Character Death, M/M, Mentions of drugs, More later - Freeform, but is it????, tune in next week or whenever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untiltheliebecomesyourlife/pseuds/wakeupyoursaints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since he started his new life, Michael’s always done whatever he was told. It’s clear to him that it’s the only way he’ll survive. Questioning the boss wasn’t a habit he could afford to make, even if sometimes he thought Geoff Ramsey was losing his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with our backs to the wall

**Author's Note:**

> a little bit based on my Titan Fall idea & a little bit based on the Train Hopping LP because this fandom doesn’t have nearly enough GTA AU fics and i don’t know why not  
> and a tiny bit off Breaking Bad if you squint  
> if i decide to continue this the rating will probably change and it'll probably get a lot shippier soooo idk

The expensive watch he didn’t actually buy (which stood in stark contrast to his outfit at the moment) told him it was now 5:35. 

Five minutes past the time Geoff Ramsey told him to hop the train and wait for him to arrive.

The  _moving_ train.

How Geoff expected to pull this off was beyond him - the train had to be going around fifty miles an hour, and Michael had barely made it onto the space between cars and he was a lot younger and more agile than his boss. 

But Geoff always managed to surprise him. He didn’t know what it was about the man that made him expect something to go wrong; it wasn’t as if they regularly failed missions. Although as long as he wasn’t voicing his doubts, he couldn’t get in trouble, right?

Michael was facing the setting sun when he felt (more than heard) a loud metallic clang behind him, and Geoff Ramsey was there, hardly wincing at the strain the jump must have put on his knees.

"Welcome," Michael said, not turning around and smiling slightly despite his cut lip (an unavoidable result of the incident earlier that day).

Geoff didn’t answer him right away. Michael could hear, just above the noises of the train, the scrape of fingers against plastic and metal and the fabric of Geoff’s jacket. The C4 he’d managed to pocket, obviously.

Michael turned his head slowly. “Geoff,” he said quietly, careful to keep the questioning tone out of his voice.

"What is it, Michael?" 

The reply came easily, like everything Geoff said, but Michael had worked for him long enough to detect the steely undertone, the exhaustion and veiled threats and slight drunkenness (yes, even today).

"It’s just… you haven’t told me what we’re doing here."

"You know what happened today, Michael," he continued calmly, coming to stand beside Michael and watch the sun sink down into the trees. "You know exactly who we pissed off, and exactly what that means for us."

Yes, Michael knew it wasn’t a coincidence that the most prolific coke smugglers were known for using this track and this train in particular, nor that it was him Geoff trusted to help, because today had been personal. They’d had run-ins with Haywood before, one of which resulted in that nasty little scar Michael stared at every day in the mirror just below his cheekbone. 

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Geoff didn’t care that whatever they were about to do to fuck with the shipment would also serve as a neat little revenge for his youngest gang member. Maybe Geoff had decided Michael was expendable and this was another kind of mission.

But he didn’t ask questions. 

Geoff pushed the brick-like explosive into his hand and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been told the next car has a secret back door.”

Michael wondered if one of their own had done something, or if it was just oversight on Haywood’s part. If he were being honest, Ryan Haywood and his people messed up far less often than they did. Once again, he stayed silent.

"Kick it in and plant this. I have the detonator."

Michael nodded and didn’t stop to ask why Geoff didn’t just do the first part himself - it wasn’t particularly difficult from where they were standing. He always had his reasons, whether or not he made them clear to his men.

(Especially when, if Michael’s second nagging suspicion was right, telling them the reason would compromise the mission.)

Michael made his way to the back of the next car, planting his feet firmly on the narrow bit of metal that connected it with the empty boat-like container he and Geoff had been standing in. With one hand he held onto the side of the car, and with the other he clutched the explosive (good thing it was C4 and not one of the more sensitive types). 

He knew this track, and he’d been keeping an eye on their position. There was a huge curve coming, and he’d feel safer if he did it before then, so he kicked at the flimsy metal in the back and watched it crumple like aluminum foil.  _Gavin’s work, probably._

Glancing back at Geoff only got him an encouraging (albeit impatient) raise of the eyebrows. He hopped across the gap and inside the car, which of course was filled with an almost startling number of bags of Venezuelan paradise white. Michael was almost sorry to see it go, if only because he knew how much it was all worth. But the rules of the game were well-established.

He leaned down and placed the charge on the floor, ensuring it was firmly stuck there before turning to make the precarious walk back. Geoff called to him abruptly then.

"Not this way. Hop off the car through the side door. Don’t try to come back. I’ll find my own way off."

Michael couldn’t hold back this time. “Geoff, what? What’s going on?”

"Just do it!" his boss yelled, and Michael couldn’t quite place the gruffness in his voice, but he thought it might be… sad?

It went against a lot of his instincts, but Michael obeyed once again, tugging the car door open and looking back one last time before diving off into the dirt. He landed on his side and rolled, trying to minimize the impact, but he felt the jarring of his bones and heard something crack.  _Shit_ , that was probably a rib.

He lay there for a moment before a voice in his head told him dreadfully to look back. 

Geoff hadn’t moved. The train surged on, headed for the big curve in the track, and his boss still stood motionless. Michael heard a high-pitched beep.  _Fuck._

He just had enough time to scramble to his feet and put a bit of distance between himself and the train when he heard the explosion. By the time he’d looked back again, the smoke and fire had engulfed at least three cars in either direction, including the one Geoff had been standing on.

It hadn’t been a plan to dispose of Michael after all.

It was so much worse.


End file.
